Dark Side of the Moon
by Jade16
Summary: When strange events begin to occur around Charlotte Cranton, she must learn to trust someone she never thought she could. ECOC
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Twilight universe does not belong to me, only original characters never seen in the book are mine.

PROLOUGE

The dream started off normal enough; I was lounging in a carved mahogany gondola smothered in richly colored feather pillows on a river of dark gooey chocolate.

Hmmm…something was missing; I concentrated for a moment trying to will the direction my dream was going. Suddenly, a pop sounded behind me, and in an explosion of Cocoa Puffs a well muscled miracle of male masculinity appeared with a palm leaf to cool my skin.

Yes, it began with a mundanely normal dream.

Here I was, enjoying the tantalizing smell of two downright sinful things, men and chocolate, when my rosy sky with purple clouds turned to a far more dramatic dark indigo, so deep that it appeared black.

I watched in helpless wonder as heavy thick rolls of mist came rushing up the river destroying my _dessert_ paradise. Within seconds, I was engulfed as well, I felt the loss of control of my fantasy world, and it felt oddly like a driver who just hydroplaned.

I sat up quickly; I was no longer on satin beaded pillows but hard cold unforgiving concrete. The warmth of the tropics was replaced by a spine shivering over air conditioned room. The sumptuous scents were now reeking of hospital sterility.

I was alone in the dark cavernous room; it was a curious sight.

I have always been able to remember my dreams, they were full of bright candy colors, and sunshine; the only black was in the spots of my pet panda bear. I looked the place over with the wonder one feels at the prospect of seeing another's dream. Somehow, somewhere, I knew this could not be one of my dreams; it was far more feasible that I had somehow gleaned in someone else's head.

Tinkling music notes reached my ears; a music box materialized twenty feet in front of me, with a light beaming down on it. I could see the thick dust in the air that mutated the bright spear.

I walked closer, noticing movement in my peripheral vision I turned and saw myself looking back at me…a mirror. I was bare foot and wore a simple pure white slip. My red hair was unbound and reached the middle of my back.

While watching my reflection I moved quietly until the ornate wood and gilt box was at my feet. In the time of a blink, the box was open and I was inside looking up seeing my face where the ceiling should be. It was quite alarming to see a giant of oneself frozen in time.

Shaking from the downright creepiness of this dream I screwed my face up desperately trying to change the "channel". I tried to visualize an old television turner knob.

A sweeping wind had my eyes open once more; I was dancing, chaotically, with a black shadow figure. _No, this is not how my dream will go. _Again I closed my subconscious eyes and tried to visualize that old rabbit eared television set. I heard behind my closed eyes mirrors beginning to crack.

For the first time I felt the unnatural fear that ruled my everyday life, but never here, my dreams were my sanctuary. I was safe here, I had always been safe here, safe from the screams, safe from the whispers, the gossip, the suspicions, the pressure, the expectations, free to _hide._

Somewhere in the distance I heard what sounded like the howling of a dog. At its mournful cry the ghostly hands upon me shrank in size and cooled a good 20 degrees to the touch before leaving my corporeal form. Afraid, but having no other choice I opened my 'dream' eyes. The darkness had receded leaving only the music box's antique ballerina, legs and arms posed.

I looked wildly around; everything else was draped in un-penetrating blackness. Music once more began to fill my ears, not the tinkling of the music box, but the jarring sound of the Music of the Night sung by Michael Crawford. I felt all around me my conscious form fighting through the layers of fog and the blankets of darkness to drag me back to the world.

With blind instinct I grabbed my cell phone still singing loudly, I flipped the phone open still half in a coma, "Good morning Aunt V."


	2. Caffiene Induced

Disclaimer: Once more the twilight universe does not belong to me, only new characters never seen in the books are mine.

CHAPTER 1 – _Caffeine Induced_

"_If they say that 'familiarity breeds contempt' and 'separation makes the heart grow fonder', then why even bother being in a relationship?"_

_ Charlotte Cranton ~ 2009_

"God, you look _terrible_!" The bubbly over-caffeinated blonde behind the kitchen island exclaimed. At her exuberance, I almost jumped out of my skin which would have been painful and messy, as I entered the room.

My right hand was clutching my chest protectively for fear of my heart leaping out in a completely ungraceful, undignified manner, again which would have been both painful and messy I'm sure.

I was still disorientated from the chaotic nightmare and even though I had just gotten off the phone with my aunt, which consisted of her chatting non-stop and me grumbling and grunting incoherently as speech eluded me, I was still in the walking zombie early morning state. It was too early to be so cheerful. I never understood how anyone could be a morning person, even if the dark ooze called "Coffee" existed.

My overly energetic cousin was in a tight pink shirt that stated to the world that she was a princess and all most bow down before her.

I shook my head in bemusement, typical Sarah.

Noticing my disapproving stare Sarah stuck out her tongue, affording me with a full view of its silver ring. "At least I have _style._"

Irritated I took in my faded jeans and Hot Topic T-shirt. I was highly offended by Sarah's comment; this was my favorite shirt showcasing a purple anime style, cute Godzilla, with hearts chasing after a helicopter.

"Gee, thanks Sarah. I so love compliments first thing in the morning. What would I ever do without you? Besides need I remind you that you _bought_ me this shirt?"

"That was last _year, _styles change you know."

"And wearing a pink princess shirt is original." I replied with a fake 'oh I get it now' voice with a little 'why hadn't I thought of that?'

"You don't have to be so crabby in the mornings…or period…you know, anymore I feel like I should just start singing about being under the sea." At my perplexed look she clarified, "because you know…what's his name again? Sebastian! Because he was a crab!"

I'm sure in that twisted mind of hers, that made perfect sense, but it was too early for Sarah-idiosyncrasies. When you are around Sarah for extended periods of time, you get the feeling that conversation of the verbal kind is pointless, mainly due to lack of listening on her part.

"Sebastian was a crab and you are being crabby."

"Deep, Sarah very deep."

She widened her eyes and nodded her head sagely, "deep like the ocean."

"Indeed." I blinked wearily and rubbed my eyes with balled up fists trying to roughly massage the drowsiness from them, once my vision cleared I saw the dreaded porcelain mug in Sarah's hand as if it had magically appeared while I had been otherwise distracted.

It was like she was using the mug as a shield, or maybe a cross like people use in vampire movies trying to ward off evil or in my case tiredness. I half expected her to shoo me away with her scalding bitter brew, _back, back you zombie, you sleep deprived demon of hell, with this coffee I banish thee._

I was about to comment when I was overcome with a large yawn.

"Snowball, did you get _any_ sleep last night?" For one nanosecond Sarah looked honestly concerned before that wicked glint came in her eyes, "or were you to _busy_ to sleep?" She was practically grinning like the Cheshire cat.

I cringed at her use of the offending nickname, Sarah was the only person on the planet to call me that, and after countless years of asking, I still have not gotten an answer as to why she refers to me as a "snowball." Perhaps the 'snow' was due to my pale complexion which came standard with the strawberry blonde reddish hair. However, I was by no means 'ball' shaped. 'Stick' might work better, or really 'twig' since I wasn't tall enough to be considered a 'stick'. Snow-twig doesn't really have a nice ring to it. But, knowing Sarah, there was probably no logic behind the action, she probably made a snowball and while looking at it instantly thought _Charlotte._

"Nightmare." I grunted barely discernable. "I hardly think I would _get busy_ in your Aunt's house with you in the room, even if I knew someone in sunny Pennsylvania."

"Only you refer to PA as 'sunny.' There's fog like every morning."

"As opposed to rain almost every day, _all _day long?"

"Point taken…still, rain is better than fog. Fog is soooo loud."

I was confused again, big surprise when my brain didn't function on all four cylinders after just waking up. "Fog is loud?"

"Yeah haven't you ever noticed everything seems to echo in the fog?"

"Hmmmm…rain's loud too…"

"I suppose…But it's still better than fog."

"Why are we talking about the weather?"

"Cause, after two months there is nothing else left to talk about."

"In a hurry to get rid of me are you?" I sat on one of the kitchen barstools and rested my head on my folded arms in exhaustion.

"Crabby, crabby, crabby…"

"How was that crabby? You're the one in a hurry to get me on a plane. That's considered rude you know?"

"Argh…you could have _tried _to find someone for a summer fling." _Finally_ she was getting to the source of her irritation. Sarah, by order of her Aunt and legal guardian, was not allowed to date until she graduated from high school and left her Aunt's house. Her anxiousness for a great romance always left her annoyed with me apathy for the same thing.

"Sarah I'm really not in the mood to talk about my lack of romantic excitement." My head was still lying in the nest of my arms, which caused my words to be slightly muffled.

"That's precisely why you don't want to talk about it; if you had _any_ you'd be talking my ear off."

"Is your life really that dull that you have to question mine?" I didn't snap at her really, it was more like a snip.

"Man, someone woke up the wrong side of the bed. Don't know how that's possible though, since no one is blocking the right side." Again the leer.

"I really, really, _really_ don't want to talk about this, your _sixteen_, should your head really be that far in the gutter already?"

"Snowball! You're only running away from your problems. You need to face your relationship inhibitions straight on and jump the first guy you see when you get back to Washington…well the first one that's not in a relationship, with your phobias you _so_ do not want to go there."

"How profound."

"All I'm saying is if you keep that emotional wall of yours up, your going to be waist deep in kitty peepee and dodo."

"Thanks for the visual image, Dr. Phil." I said dryly.

"You know what you need? A triple latté." Yep that was the answer to every problem both minor and major. _'Sarah how do you plan to solve the world peace dilemma?', 'I'll buy everyone coffee, cause if people had caffeine they would be a whole lot less grumpy and everyone would get along!' _

Thankfully, it was the last morning of dealing with the coffee addict, as my flight back to the other end of the US was this afternoon. I let out a long weary sigh, already envisioning scenes of caffeine attacks bound to occur over the course of the car trip to the airport. It was terrifying to be in such close confines with someone who would literarily go through java withdrawal before she even finished her Starbucks cup. Feeling the desperate instinctive need to flee from Crazy Coffee Cranton, I swiftly made my breakfast; I was suddenly in a hurry to pack.

Despite her sometimes annoyance, I really did love my cousin. I miss her terribly over the year and relish the short two months I spend with her every summer. It's not easy when your _best_ and _only_ friend lives thousands of miles away.

However, I was especially anxious to leave today, a deep seated sense of restlessness had settled over me. Whether it was from the dream or caused the dream I couldn't say for certain. But, I felt strange…uneasy, and slightly tense.

While I quickly ate, Sarah leaned against the kitchen counter examining her _long_ fingernails for imperfections, do I sound envious I'm not really…I think…I didn't want to even think of the short stubs that were supposedly my fingernails.

I quickly dismissed the foolish yearning for acrylic bliss. They would prove cumbersome getting paint underneath them while I worked on my art.

I made a mental note to be sure to pack the scribbles and doodles I had collected over my stay. No piece of paper was safe when my mind was racing with ideas. I have been known to use restaurant napkins and receipts in my aim to get the pictures out of my head, safely if crudely fleshed out on paper before they disappeared. At the rate I had been going lately, I would probably be locked in my 'studio' until December, with only school, sleep, and food able to tear me away.

I wasn't very good, at least not by normal standards.

I painted because I would go crazy if I didn't. The pictures in my head can consume me to the point where I get physical symptoms. In the past when I was unable to paint due to various reasons i.e. lack of time or supplies, I would get massive migraines and shake almost severely. It was like I was going through withdrawal.

And before you think otherwise, my talent estimation isn't a case of false modesty. My entire family stretching back to my great, great, great…you get the picture…Grandfather Nathaniel Cranton, has been artistically inclined, several of them have ended up in art galleries and museums. My Aunt V is moderately successful at sculptures; she has had a few shows throughout Washington State and even a couple in New York City. Sarah also had immense talent; she could draw to the point where you would think you were looking at a black and white photograph.

But I couldn't get details correct. If I was painting a person it was usually an abstraction with no face. The same was true if I were painting an animal, a tree, a flower, they all were abstractions. When I was younger I would sit for hours on end trying to be as meticulous as possible with the small subtle details. As I got older I realized that I would never be my Great Grandfather Cranton, or Aunt V, or Sarah. It was at that point that I became obsessed with capturing the 'movement' of a figure, and not the figure itself.

Art is who I am; any other self definitions are still unformed.

I crunched on my cereal without really tasting it. My eyes were drawn to the window watching the play of light.

"Char, I have something to tell you, it's _very_ important." Curious even though I knew I was going to regret it, I tilted my head so my ears would have a better angle. "I've figured out the secret of my mysterious and absent neighbor, D.L., it stands for Demon Lady or Lord, and she _or_ he, is actually a vampire, who hides in secret with the Amish."

Seriously, what did I really expect? Regardless she had me looking away from the window to face insanity head on.

"The Amish?"

"Well, we _are_ in Pennsylvania, what 'would be slayers'- ha ha, that almost sounds like a pun, what _wood_ be slayers, ha ha…anyways who would think to look there?"

"Sarah, the Amish typically work from sunup to sundown."

"Not the Nightguard."

"The Nightguard?"

"Yeah, you know the people who patrol the fields at night."

I had to pause for a moment, "you made that up didn't you?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Why exactly do they patrol the fields at night?"

"Crop circles."

"Uh huh…"

"Crop circles always appear during the night, so the Nightwatch patrol for alien life-forms, and groundhogs."

"Nightwatch? Don't you mean Nightguard?"

"Ummm….that's what I said."

"Did you…did you just say aliens and _groundhogs_?

"Yes, I have a theory that the groundhogs are responsible for crop circles."

_Oh dear lord…do I even…no just ignore it…don't ask…don't ask…_ "How exactly are groundhogs responsible for crop circles? _Damn…I told you not to ask…there goes four more IQ points and 5% of my brain cells._

"Its top secret." Sarah looked nervously around the room then gestured for me to lean in closer to her so she could whisper the world shattering hypothesis. _Yes…this person is actually my cousin, and she is planning on going to college. Bet you don't know what she wants to major in? _

_Psychology._

A complete glutton for punishment, I rolled my eyes and decided to humor the little head case. I gestured to her to continue her irrational train of thought.

_Is insanity a communal disease? Can you 'catch' mental disorders, does it spread from victim to victim? If so, why worry now._

"Yesterday I was driving home from the mall, alone – since _someone _refused to go with me _again_ – and I saw one of them."

Honestly, at this point I really don't know what she saw, an alien, an Amish vampire, a Nightguard, a groundhog or the Easter Bunny.

"It was just burrowing in the ground not far from some corn fields and when I drove close, it stood up on its two legs real quick like it was nervous I had seen it, then it just stood there acting all cool and calm, like it was waiting for me to leave before finishing whatever nefarious deeds it was up to."

"Maybe it was leaving buried messages for the aliens, you know, designs for the next crop circle." I am quite proud; I said this with an absolute straight face.

Sarah hit her forehead lightly and her eyes sparkled. The light above her head must have suddenly turned on…too bad that it was only a 15 watt bulb. "That makes so much sense it's scary, I'm going to send it into the newspaper."

_Okay I am evil at times…but not this evil I can't let her publicly humiliate herself anymore than she does on a daily basis._

"They might be watching the newspapers. I think its better to send the information on March 31st and ask that it be a rush print, because that's when aliens have their annual-" _what…what…hmm… _"Tanning, otherwise they would be white instead of grey."

Sarah nodded sagely.

"Anyways…Sarah? Where did you hear of these 'Nightguard' people?"

"Class."

"What class?"

"A class I took in school."

"A class on the Amish?"

"No, World Regions we were focusing on religious isolationism a couple of weeks ago, learned all about those monkeys."

"Monkeys?"

"Yeah they wear orange sheets and are from Tibet or something like that."

"Sarah, last time I checked at the zoo, monkeys don't wear orange sheets, and I am fairly certain they don't even know what 'religious isolationism' means." _Like you._ "However, Buddhist 'Monks' wear saffron 'robes' although that's more traditionally in India, Tibetan Buddhist Monks generally wear red robes."

"I knew that I was just testing you."

"Uh-huh."

"Seriously."

"Yeah."

Considering this whole conversation a lost cause, I tuned out the insane one and continued crunching on the sugar enriched cereal.

"Char, why are vampires always rich?"

After shaking my head from the mild case of mental whiplash, I shrugged. "They don't have to buy groceries."

"Hmmm….I _guess_ that makes sense, but, they would spend a fortune in toothpaste and mouthwash."

"Why?"

"The blood_."_

"Huh?" She was once again looking at her nails.

"They would _have _to brush their teeth after drinking all that blood, you've seen those movies where the blood is practically pouring out of their mouth and in the next seen not a drop on their teeth, and then they're kissing some random non-vamp girl." Sarah's eyes widened to the point where I was worried they might fall out of her head. "Did they have toothpaste back in the middle ages?"

I shrugged, honestly do _look _like I know the history of toothpaste.

"Do you think Dracula brushed his teeth?"

"Sarah, if the average non-vampire citizen didn't brush their teeth, why would you think that Vlad the Impaler would?"

"I just can't imagine Gary Oldman not brushing his teeth after snacking on someone."

"That's the magic of Hollywood I suppose."

"Do you think they would stink? Being undead and all?"

"Why are we so obsessed with vampires this morning?"

I was only half aware of the conversation, Sarah and Aunt V were the only two people I never felt I had to dedicate my complete concentration. Not because I thought little of their intelligence, but because I was terrified of people and therefore uncomfortable being around people, which inevitably meant that my social skills were severely lacking.

"Who would you rather meet? The Wolfman, Dracula, Frankenstein's Monster, the Creature from the Black Lagoon, or the Mummy?"

"Are we speaking of the classics or their modern remakes?"

"Classics."

"Hunchback of Notre Dame."

"That wasn't an option Snowball."

Hmm…maybe Sarah thought I was a cat. Snowball seemed a very cat-like name. So did that make me a pet?

"In what terms are we speaking about? If you mean in general, probably either the Mummy or the Creature from the Black Lagoon."

Sarah looked at me with interest. We were both paranormal movie fans, I preferred ghost movies while Sarah would watch anything with fangs.

"Why?"

"I would never go into the Lagoon, I mean what with the bugs, leeches, and snakes, who would _want_ to, so the Creature would never get me. And the Mummy is soooo slow. He walks with one leg dragging and can only use one hand. You'd have to be passed out for the twenty minutes it took him to go ten feet for him to catch you."

Sarah laughed after my rant, "Well we all know who Aunt Victorious would choose. But really who fascinates you? Let's break it down to the age old debate, wolves or vamps?"

"Age old debate?" I snickered at her deadly serious expression. "Fine, the Wolfman."

"Haha…I _knew _it! You're such an animal person."

I rolled my eyes skyward.

"So…any guys waiting anxiously for your return?"

"Sarah, you have asked me that question everyday since I got here, I don't think my answer is going to change, seeing as I can't _meet_ and _date_ guys from Forks, when I am still here in fabulous York PA."

"I figured you were lying, so I've been trying to wear you down. Don't you want a boyfriend?"

I honestly physically shuddered, just thinking about the dating arena; unlike the talk of vampires, dating was a truly bloodthirsty topic of conversation, evoking more horror than any cheesy accented dark prince. It was a sport so primitive, it that had not evolved since the days of the Neanderthals, I'm still expecting someone to hit my head with a club and drag me off by my hair to the nearest cave.

Once more, I had to shake myself from my thoughts. Daydreaming was one of my bad habits, and yes I'll freely admit to having a lot of bad habits. However, daydreaming wise, it was a constant occurrence in my daily life, my Aunt V had even coined the frequent times when I was unreachable as 'zoning'.

"Dating is fun!" My eyebrow lifted at the random scream from Sarah.

Before I could respond I heard feet shuffling down the carpeted stairs. "Good morning Aunt Di!" Sarah hollered loudly towards the grumbling adult.


	3. Going In Circles

Disclaimer: Once more the twilight universe does not belong to me, only new characters never seen in the books are mine.

Chapter 2 – _Going in circles…_

…_sure airplanes are spacious, if you're a sardine. _

_Charlotte Cranton ~ 2009_

By the time the plane touched down in Washington, I was exhausted, nauseas, and anxious to be out of the confined space.

In my mind, spacious as it may be, their is only one thing worse then being stuck in a cramped seat for hours on end, surrounded by loud obnoxious screaming children, being forced to eat a sorry excuse of a meal…the baggage carousel.

I used to run from the terminal to the claim area so that I could, you know, actually _see _the carousel. However, due to too many pushy people who didn't understand the meaning of personal space, I always end up in the back, and miss my luggage, therefore forced to wait for the workers to place the unclaimed luggage in a designated area. I have since given up this fruitless cycle, next year I might even just _mail _my luggage home.

The airport was packed today, full of people leaving and returning from their summer vacation destinations. The sheer amount of fellow high school students was overwhelming; each and every one of them had a face full of excitement with the prospect of sharing their various dramas. It was always strange to observe them, they walked together, clearly a group, yet all of them were either on their cell phone texting or talking to someone else.

"I'm serious; he actually said that, can you believe it!"

I rolled my eyes at the loud chatter, and pulled the hood on my jacket up to cover my head. Now with my security blanket in place I continued the ever popular sport for a person that has nothing better to do, watch other people who have nothing to do.

It can be relatively _fun_, if one takes certain liberties with the definition of the word _fun,_ writing imaginary stories for each person, guessing where they came from and where they are going. Sometimes though, it makes me feel like a narrator in someone else's book.

But this is supposed to be my story right? So what am I doing while other people are running around in a constant stream of chaos? At this exact moment, I am sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair looking at an abandoned luggage belt. I had already been waiting for fifteen minutes, and knew in all likely, that I would be waiting up to thirty more.

I slouched back in my chair, trying to get as comfortable as possible without garnering any attention. Of its on accord my hand found a curl of hair by my chin and began to twirl it.

With boredom beginning to set in, I started listing what I would need to get for the next school year, the _last_ school year of public education.

Sometime this weekend I would have to go to Port Angeles to get the regulatory supplies, and hopefully a couple pair of new jeans. I refused to shop in Forks, as I preferred not knowing the people working in the store.

Not that I _knew _anybody in Forks. I only _lived_ there for close to twelve years, and as Sarah would gladly tell anyone, I am essentially a hermit.

Having quickly grown even more bored with my meager shopping list, my thoughts strayed to a silent debate over which teachers I would have this year. Perhaps Ms. Tuddle had finally had the, often threatened, nervous breakdown and actually retired, I mean she had to be a hundred and eight by now.

My quiet contemplation of absolutely nothing important was disturbed when several of the teenage girls and women in the surrounding area started giggling like fangirls and pointing in the general direction of the escalators.

Safe knowing I was unobserved, I narrowed my eyes at the loudest of them before dropping my eyes back to the belt, willing my luggage to magically appear.

However, once more laughter interrupted my solitude. Only this wasn't high pitched squeals of disbelief and awe. It was an almost musical sound; it reminded me of the wind chimes outside my window. I knew instantly who was issuing the laugh; after all it was a relatively unique sound.

The Cullens…_Alice_ Cullen to be exact. I didn't have to look up to know the whole family must have just arrived from their trip to who knows where. I didn't _know_ any of them but I _knew_ of them. I was a freshman in high school the year Alice and Edward Cullen had graduated.

I didn't particularly _want_ to know them as they seemed to gain attention wherever they went, for someone that craved social anonymity, acknowledgement from _them_ would have been torture.

I sighed softly, too softly to be heard and grumbled under my breath at the shallowness of the people around me, who where practically standing on their tip toes to watch with breathless adoration as the family came closer.

I had a brief visual image of the crowd around a carousel parting like the Red Sea to give the family all the room they needed to pose themselves in glamorous ambiguity.

They always seemed like mannequins to me; as if they were assuming positions they had studied from movies, television, and magazines to blend in, only their motions appeared exaggerated in their aim to appear _normal, _as Shakespeare would say "The lady doth protest too much." Although, they were not all "ladies." Suddenly, I had a visual image of Emmett Cullen dressed in drag, and snickered quietly. Once more I heard a musical laugh only this one came from Edward Cullen.

"Jacob!" a voice screamed or squealed really, in a much less annoying manner then the fangirls at the airport.

Curious I looked up and saw a Cullen I do not remember ever seeing before. It was clear that she was a Cullen since she looked quite a bit like Edward. She had to be in her pre-teen years, eleven perhaps. She was small and slender and looked even more so when a large man crushed her in a fierce bear hug. He was Native American, but what tribe I couldn't say. There were a lot of reservations in the Washington state. Behind him was a group of equally tall and muscular men, they were probably all brothers since they shared so many features.

Once more I turned my attention from the Cullens, my bags had finally arrived. As I was standing up my cell phone, rang, I had turned the ring tone up to near blasting since the airport had been particularly noisy and crowded, however, it was no longer loud, due to the zombie like state people used while staring at the Cullens. "The Music of the Night" rang loud and clear, gaining everyone's attention including the _ever_ glorious Cullens, and their "giants."

I felt my cheeks burn from embarrassment, and was glad I had put on my hoodie earlier since it hid my face from view. I was at a loss for what to do. Internally, I was weighing the merits of running to the exit and abandoning my bags forever. Thankfully I was saved by such a rash and more than likely a further attention getting stunt, a sharp alarm sounded with flashing lights indicating the luggage would soon be coming down the belt. I breathed a sigh of relief as all eyes turned and almost in unison the crowd swarmed around the large oval machine.

I took the cell phone out of my pocket, grumbling in irritation at the name on the caller ID. "Yeah Aunt V?…no I just got my bags…I didn't call because I _just_ got them…Aunt V!" distracted by my aunts complaining on the phone I walked right into someone. And damn, the person had to be made of concrete. The force of the collision caused my phone to drop to the tile floor and break. The second before impact I could hear Aunt V still complaining about the airport parking lot.

"I'm sorry." I said quickly looking up, and up, and up to the very tall stranger I managed to collide with. Being a measly five feet one inch, anyone can be considered a giant, however, he was certainly verifiably _tall._

He wore a pinstriped business suit and must have had a severe case of travel sickness since the man couldn't be any paler. He smiled down at me, briefly searching my eyes before looking over my shoulder at something that caused a slight smirk to appear on his lips.

"No problem." He looked back down at me and gave me another gentle smile, before nodding his head and leaving the area.

_Weird._

I shook my head, and looked down once more at the wreckage at my feet. Now I had to add a trip to the Verizon store to my shopping expedition.

"Are you okay?" I remained looking at the broken pieces of plastic and wire, it took me several moments to realize that the person who asked that question had been talking to me and that they were still waiting for my answer. Confused I lifted my gaze and jumped back a step. Alice Cullen had issued the question with her whole family and their Native American friends all crowded around me.

_When the hell did they get here? _I didn't hear them come over and I could have sworn not one minute ago they were all in the middle of a happy reunion on the other end of the Baggage claim section.

They were all watching me, and it was making me very uncomfortable. Especially the large…okay they were _all _large at least the guys were, but one of the Native Americans in particular was looking at me very intensely and it was beginning to scare the crap out of me. I'm not used to people noticing me much less _looking _at me.

The sooner I answer, hopefully the sooner I can get away. "I'm fine." I answered softly searching for a break in the human wall, with which I could escape to the parking lot.

"Do you –"

"Charlotte!" Aunt V had thankfully finally arrived. She came towards me with a purposefully and aggravated stride. She took in my broken remains on the floor, and merely shook her head. "I have to work this evening, so we need to leave _now." _She grabbed one of my bags before giving the Cullens and the "giants" a narrow look. "Come on." With that she was halfway to the exit, I nodded briefly to the surrounding "wall" and took the remaining bag, trotting after her.


End file.
